


we make our tracks in packs

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bukkake, Circle Jerk, Comeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Public Sex, Spaces Scenes and Settings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their usual post-show celebration and, often times, the only thing that helps them come down from their end-of-concert highs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we make our tracks in packs

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS FIC AND I APOLOGIZE.
> 
> (written, as always, for the beautiful caitlin
> 
> also fills the [Spaces Scenes and Settings square on my Kink Bingo card](http://autumnfox.akrasiac.org/kbingo/2012/cardset1-645.jpg).)
> 
> This is a work of _fiction_.
> 
> ([title credit](http://www.lyricsmania.com/our_eyes_are_bright_lyrics_cooper_temple_clause,_the.html))

It's their usual post-show celebration. They learned early on that they're too keyed up to go to sleep right away, and that the best way to come down from a performance high involves orgasms. This, of course, started out with indiscrete jerking off on the tour bus right after gigs – Harry's gasps inevitably percolating through Liam's awareness first, then Niall's, then Louis's, the sharp groans Louis makes when he's seconds away from coming proving a rather tittilating soundtrack to Liam's own ministrations, his hand fisting around his cock, slick with the touch of lube he always used back then. 

Zayn was a bit more private about his, well, _private time_ , and Liam is pretty sure that he only heard Zayn because their bunks were so close together. Zayn is a mover, though, and Liam could _feel_ the way Zayn would rock into his hand, harder and faster as he got closer to finishing.

(They would jerk off in their hotel rooms, too, when they had those. Or at least, Liam assumes the others would do that, too.)

Now, though, they've grown closer and their post-show cool-off has adjusted accordingly. 

Paul has cleared the arena. The fans have all streamed away; the band is backstage, packing their instruments. There is one security guard stationed at the door, but really, everyone knows that the boys have their little routine that they like to do, to process the entire show, before they leave each venue.

Liam has it on questionable authority (so, Louis) that Paul and the band and the guards and everyone mostly just think that they hug and pile up and talk it out and maybe wrestle a bit, say a bit of a goodbye to each location before they move on. And yeah, that's _kind of_ true.

Mostly, though, they drag the couch back out to the front of the stage. Tonight, Niall slumps down first, loosening his tie as he palms himself roughly through his trousers. Harry sinks down next to Niall, curling into his side a little bit. Harry is finally out of his blazer, his shirt untucked and half-unbuttoned. He isn't touching himself yet, but his legs are sprawled open, so it's only a matter of time.

Zayn sits on the edge of the couch on Niall's other side. Niall glances over, grins, tugs at Zayn's loose bowtie with his free hand. "Alright?" Zayn asks Niall, his voice swallowed up by the vast emptiness of the place they're in, and Niall nods, eyes bright.

Liam is heading toward the floor in front of the couch, fully center-stage, his rightful place in this particular configuration, when Louis pulls him aside.

"You're good for this, yeah?" he asks, and Liam smiles.

"I always am," he says, and he touches Louis's shoulder briefly, reassuringly, before slipping one of his braces off. Louis looks so much better when he's disheveled. 

Louis rolls his eyes. "I _know_ that," he says, reaching up to tweak one of Liam's nipples, which – yeah, that's usually annoying, but right after a show it just makes Liam's cock twitch with interest in his trousers. "Just want to make sure that you don't change your mind on us, don't I?"

"Thanks," Liam says, seriously. Louis claps him on the shoulder and goes to perch on the arm of the couch closest to Harry, pushing the rest of his braces off so that they are dangling down his legs as he crosses one leg underneath himself and rests the other against the floor. 

Liam takes off his vest and folds it neatly, then drops it to the floor and sits on it, cross-legged, facing the lads. "Shall we?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at them. 

He observes them quietly for a moment, taking in the sight. Niall is still stroking his cock through his trousers, pushing the heel of his hand against the tent the fabric. Zayn, the eternal tease, is toying with the buttons on his shirt, slowly revealing inch by tantalizing inch of his chest. He's obviously hard, but doing nothing about it – yet.

Harry is now curled up so that his feet are on the arm of the couch just under Louis's bum and his torso is half-leaning onto Niall. He's the furthest gone, Liam notes – he's already got the button and zip on his bottoms undone and his cock out, flush and thick and dusky-pink against his hand as he works it, fingers slipping over the head again and again and again.

Louis seems content just to watch, for now.

Liam starts unbuttoning his shirt now, tugging his shirttails out of his waistband as he gets lower, then pushing the sleeves off entirely. He rises up on his knees to push his trousers off when he hears a strangled noise from Zayn.

"Can you stay like that tonight?" Zayn asks. When Liam looks up at him, Zayn is pushing a hand down the front of his pants. The sight is gorgeous, so Liam nods and stays up on his knees as he flicks the button on his trousers open and slowly unzips, sighing with relief as his hard cock springs free of the material. 

He hisses when he wraps his hand around it, because his fingers are cold and clammy after singing and sweating for well over an hour, and it just feels so different and good against the heat of his erection.

"Yeah," Zayn rasps. Liam is always one for putting on a bit of a show – he kind of has to be, to have gotten to where he is in his life right now, both literally and figuratively - so he pushes his chest forward and tilts his head back slightly as he pulls his cock out of his boxers and starts stroking it, slowly, his grip firm but not too firm.

He wants to last the longest.

When he chances a glance up, Harry and Zayn both have a hand on Niall's thighs, up very close to his crotch, their fingers obviously gripping hard onto his legs. Niall's head is thrown back – he's always the first to close his eyes and think about whatever it is that gets him going harder, and now he's completely sunk into the couch save for the hand wrapped around his cock, thumb circling around his slit every time his fist pulls down the shaft from the tip.

Louis is still sitting on the couch arm leisurely, like he's watching some kind of sitcom on the telly, but the way he's sitting just pushes his crotch front and center, so Liam can see the obvious bulge of Louis's erection straining against his zip. Louis isn't touching himself, not yet, but his parted lips reveal how aroused he truly is.

The sight of Harry, Zayn, and Niall with their naked cocks in hand as they each fist their shafts in their own particular rhythm, the sound of flesh moving against flesh and the gasps and moans of the lads, coupled with Louis just watching Liam closely, leaning back, slowly reaching forward to brush a finger against the line of his cock through his trousers and then stop, biting his lip – well. 

Liam squeezes his hand around the base of his dick so that he can hold out that much longer. He can hear Niall getting close to the edge – and that's an interesting realization, that you know your best mates and fellow band members so well that you can tell, just by sight and sound, how close they are to orgasm – and squeezes tighter, because the most important and tittilating part of this ritual is about to begin.

"Niall," he calls out, daring to stroke his cock once, rolling his foreskin back with his hand and then moving his hand off altogether even though he's so hard it almost _hurts_ so that he can latch his hands together behind his back and open his chest up completely. "Are you ready, mate?"

"Please," Niall grunts, and Liam closes his eyes in anticipation, but he can imagine Zayn and Harry letting go of his legs and helping him stand up. He imagines them holding hands as Niall takes one step forward, than another, and then, with a shout, starts coming.

The splash of Niall's come across Liam's face feels dirty and hot as hell. One spurt falls across from his cheek to his chin, and then another quickly follows, dotting over his nose and his lips and dripping a little bit onto his chest, and it's all Liam can do to keep from licking his lips, because it's not time for that, yet.

He grips his hands behind his back even more tightly, digging his fingernails into his wrist. He wants to ride this one out.

"Fuck," Harry says. "Niall. _Liam_." And then there's another rustle of noise, and then another hot splash of come lands on Liam's face, and then his neck, and he can't help it, he has to touch himself _now_ at least a little bit or like, die from being so aroused, so he pushes his hand back up the shaft of his cock, rolling his foreskin back over the head of his dick and giving himself another, quick stroke for good measure before moving his hand away, slowly and with difficulty, and biting his lip, hard.

After Harry there's a lull, so Liam opens his eyes. Louis has moved on to pressing his hand flat against his crotch, hard, and Liam can tell by the tension in his hands that he's trying as hard as he can to hold back. 

Zayn has no such reservations. He is stroking himself fast, staring out into the vast emptiness behind Liam, probably picturing the entire arena full of people, which – fuck, that's a hot image. Liam wraps his hand around his cock again and moves it, as slowly as he can force himself to go (so, not very), and stares at the way that the head of Zayn's cock is flushed an angry deep red, almost purpling in the lights left on onstage.

The way it bobs as Zayn stumbles to his feet and bites his lip hard as he lets go long enough to take a few steps and then fall to his knees in front of Liam, now staring directly at Liam instead of into the dark arena, is mesmerizing to watch, but by the point that Zayn is on his knees, he's too close for Liam to look at his cock and stay in any kind of upright position. So Liam looks away. He can still just _picture_ Zayn just fine though, the way that Zany will be fisting himself a few more strokes until he spills over his hand and onto Liam's chest in a few thick stripes that Liam can practically _feel_ plastering his chest hair down, which.

Well.

Liam is just really _really_ into that.

Zayn hesitates before falling back onto his heels, reaching forward to drag one finger through the spunk he's just shot off onto Liam's chest. He pushes his finger into his mouth, almost thoughtfully, a little saucily, before slowly and shakily getting up and walking back to the couch.

Liam lets his head fall forward as he slumps into the hold that he has on his cock, because he literally cannot hold back at all anymore, not after three of his best mates shot their loads onto him after smashing their concert the way that they did. He moves his hand to the head of his dick and, biting his lip hard, starts rolling his foreskin further back again, hissing at himself as he does so.

"Louis," he gasps, as he starts to fuck into his fist, silently thanking his past self for all of those ab workouts he used to do that make the motion possible. "Lou, please."

Louis stands up. He's fully unbuttoned and unzipped, underwear now pushed down inside his trousers, tucked just under his balls. His cock is pressing through the undone front of his trousers and it bobs, fully erect, in front of him as he walks up to Liam. "Li," he whispers, and grips his dick firmly in one hand. He hisses, and Liam can tell by the intensity of the hiss that this is the first time Louis has properly touched himself all night. "Not going to last long."

Liam forces himself to tilt his head up so he can meet Louis's eyes. "Good," he manages, fisting himself harder, dragging his fingers against the thick vein on the underside of his cock, gasping at the feeling of his foreskin rolling back over the head of his cock, the way it feels when that traps the precome gathering at the tip of his dick. His orgasm is building inside of him. "Me neither."

He twists his hand over the head of his cock once and, staring directly at Louis's dick, calls back the memory of the way finishing the show felt tonight – alive, ecstatic, the crowd in front of them louder than the one before it, the knowledge that tomorrow night's crowd will be louder still, chanting their names, singing along with their songs. The way their group hug felt, Louis's hands pressed tight against Liam's side, fingers digging into his waist. Niall's clammy palm brushing against his neck. Zayn's wicked smirk that so clearly read _soon_ right before they went off-stage. 

Liam groans, tightening his grip and fisting his dick faster harder, pushing his hips forward on the downstroke because his balls are tightening and he can't even keep his eyes open anymore. He's not going to last until last like he wanted to, but that's okay, probably, because he knows Louis likes to watch him come. So he screws his eyes shut, Louis's hard cock the last thing he sees before he curls in on himself and comes hard all over his hand.

When he feels able to move, he wipes his hand off on his chest and pushes himself back up onto his knees, looking Louis straight in the eye. "C'mon," he whispers, throatily.

And Louis bites his lip hard and, gazing straight back at Liam, groans, "Close your eyes," so Liam does, quickly.

Moments later, he feels Louis's come splash over his face, from the bridge of his nose up across his forehead, just barely missing his eye.

When he hears Louis give that little sigh he always sighs when he's done coming, he gingerly feels his hairline and – yes, Louis has gone and gone some in his hair.

Liam opens his eyes. "Thanks," he says, dryly, rubbing it in as much as possible so that it won't be blatantly obvious when they go off-stage, before reaching down to tuck himself back into his underpants and trousers.

"Looks good," Louis says, hoarsely, extending a hand to help Liam up.

Liam's knees are sore as anything, and he's really wobbly on them when he stands up, but Louis loops an arm around Liam and then Zayn is there on his other side and they help him to the couch and pile on after him. When Liam is sat down between Harry and Louis, Louis turns and licks Liam's cheek.

"You've had garlic tonight, Niall," he says, knowledgeably, and Niall cracks up.

"I didn't though, mate," he says. "And you have no way of knowing that it's not Harry's, anyway."

Harry says something, or maybe pushes at Niall, but Liam can't be sure. He's zoning out, but in the best possible way – shirtless and covered in spunk with his trousers undone and his dick _this close_ to hanging out, yeah, but he's tight and warm between his lads and they've smashed another show and had this massive bonding experience at yet another venue and he just really loves them a lot.

They'll have to go soon, back into their clothes and on to their bus and into their separate bunks and Liam will fall fast asleep as soon as he lies down and he's pretty sure the others will, too, after all of this. But they have a few minutes left, so he tangles his fingers with Louis's on one side and drapes his arm back behind Harry's back until his other hand is brushing against Niall's shoulder and he tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut and he just _breathes_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I'm really uncertain about this still :-SS
> 
>  
> 
> [lj](http://el_em_en_oh_pee.livejournal.com) | [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com)


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